


Status Update

by ehemond



Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, Fake Marriage, I love her, Quarantine, Yeah that happened, but not a fake relationship, it's not really that complicated, liho deserves the world, to be clear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:47:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehemond/pseuds/ehemond
Summary: Yelena has come all the way from Russia to start her new future with Natasha in the US - too bad the coronavirus means the two have to quarantine together for an indeterminate amount of time. Yelena deals with her frustrations in surprising ways and Natasha finds she is not all that annoyed by it.
Relationships: Yelena Belova/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 8
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

“Move to America, Yelena. There is no future for you in Russia, Yelena. Things will be better in America, look at Natalia! She ran away but she’s doing much better there. Why can’t you be more like Natalia, Yelena? Well, I am in America. I have left Russia. And now I am stuck in this shithole,” Yelena turns, pointing accusingly at Natasha, “With you.”

Natasha stifles her laughter, smiling sweetly at Yelena, “And you are free as ever to leave, Yelena. I am not keeping you here.”

Yelena groans. She flops gracelessly onto a sofa, arms splayed out like a starfish. A frustrated starfish. “No, of course not, god forbid the ever angelic Natasha Romanoff ever force someone against their will, of course not,” Yelena raises her head to shoot daggers at Natasha’s amused form, “And yet this fucking virus means ‘social distancing’ and ‘quarantine’ for the good of others, which is total bullshit-”

“The coronavirus is not bullshit, Yelena,” Natasha cuts in, all blastedly calm and reasonable, “And it’s not like there’s anything better to do. The job market is an absolute nightmare now, anyways.”

Choosing to ignore Natasha’s words, Yelena continues on without pause, “But no, I must do my civic duty in these difficult times, so we are stuck together.”

“What a blessing, truly.”

Yelena springs up from the couch, “Well, I was promised excitement and intrigue, a whole new world to discover, and what do I have? The world of your Netflix collection and your devil cat.”

“Liho isn’t a devil cat.”

Yelena only glares harder. In that moment, arms crossed, blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail, and a sulking pout across her face, she looks thoroughly displeased.

Natasha’s smile widens, and she steps closer, pulling Yelena into her arms, head resting against Yelena’s shoulder. She hears the steady pumping of Yelena’s heart, a steady beat in spite of her unhappiness. Yelena stubbornly refuses to accept the gesture, angling her body away from Natasha’s embrace and body tensing, but Natasha only holds her tighter.

They stay like that, neither party willing to move, with Natasha gently holding Yelena’s stiff body in hers. Natasha doesn’t push any further, just holds Yelena close to her.

Eventually, Yelena relaxes with a sigh, arms moving to wrap around Natasha’s back and head dropping between her neck and shoulder, “You are a stubborn, idiotic do-gooder.”

Natasha chuckles, “But I’m your stubborn, idiotic do-gooder, aren’t I?”

“Hmph.”

Natasha releases Yelena, but the blonde only clings tighter, this time refusing to let go, “Stop moving,” She mumbles, “You run away too much.”

“Yelena, we’ve been hugging for almost ten minutes.”

Yelena moves, facing Natasha with squinted eyes, “And?”

Gently pushing Yelena away, Natasha smirks, “And I’m hungry. Let me go make dinner, then we can do whatever you want.”

“Like go outside?” Yelena asks, hope seeping into her voice.

“We’re social distancing, not caged. We can go out, just no outside social contact.” Natasha shakes her head, “You don’t even like people.”

“That’s when I have the choice to not like them. I don’t even get the chance to be disgusted by their idiocy anymore.” Yelena sulks, “That used to be the highlight of my days.”

“Well,” Natasha steers Yelena back onto the couch, pushing her to sit back, “Now it can be the highlight of your days from here.”

Yelena pouts. It’s a very cute pout, Natasha knows, an angelic face framed by a mess of blonde curls. It would be extraordinarily effective if Yelena didn’t insist on using it every time she didn’t get her way. By now, Natasha has adjusted to its devastating power, and as she turns to look once more at Yelena, all she can do is smile at the adorable blonde Russian puppy pouting back at her.

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Natasha moves into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and pulling out ingredients. She doesn’t ignore Yelena per se, but she doesn’t pay her any special amount of attention. It’s carefully calculated, a move to bring Yelena to her instead of the opposite.

“Ignoring me.”

Fighting off a smile, Natasha looks back towards Yelena, “I’m not ignoring you, I’m making dinner. Unlike some people, I’m contributing to this household.”

“It’s your house.” Yelena points out.

“Which you live in.” Natasha replies archly.

“Because of this stupid quarantine!”

Instead of offering a response, Natasha merely hums, focusing her energy on the variety of vegetables in front of her. She begins the process of prepping them, a monotonous order of movements that she can easily do while turning off her mind. 

It works, for a few moments at least, before Natasha is startled back into reality by Yelena poking her sharply in the side, “What are you making?” She steals a piece of carrot off the cutting board, munching on it loudly, and Natasha directs a glare at her.

“Quinoa lentil salad.”

Immediately, Yelena’s eyes narrow while she processes the information before she decides she doesn’t like the idea, “That sounds unpleasant, Natalia. Is there even any meat in it? Why are you making me eat that?”

Natasha continues with her chopping, “I never said you had to eat it, but I want to. Besides, it’s good for you. Lots of protein.”

“So is chicken.”

"But I'm making this."

“It’s...rabbit food.”

“Well then I’ll be a happy rabbit.”

“Can’t you be a carnivorous rabbit?”

“You don’t have to eat it,” Natasha reminds Yelena, “Now be a doll and cook the lentils and quinoa, won’t you? They’re soaking on the table.”

In response, Yelena walks over to the table, dropping her hand into the pot of lentils and pulling a few out. She looks doubtfully at them, inspecting them carefully.

Natasha checks on her out of the corner of her eyes, watching amusedly as Yelena pops a few into her mouth and chews. She makes a face, and Natasha laughs, “You don’t eat them raw. Or unsalted.”

Yelena grimaces, looking at the remaining lentils in her hand.

Natasha puts down the knife in her hand, turns to face Yelena, and arches an eyebrow pointedly.

Yelena meets her gaze before promptly throwing the rest of the lentils at Natasha. 

Natasha stares in absolute shock at the sheer audacity, her brain not catching up with what Yelena has done. “You threw lentils at me.”

Smiling impishly back at her, Yelena moves to put the grains onto the stove, flipping on the fire and prancing away. She looks back at Natasha as she slips out of the kitchen, winking at her before moving off. Not a word is said.

Not even bothering to sigh, Natasha simply continues chopping her vegetables. Yelena will probably be back after ten minutes without attention, anyways. She’s like a cat. A needy, attention-seeking cat with entirely far too much time on her hands. 

Surprisingly, Natasha is able to make it through all of her prep work and is even able to start putting together her salad before Yelena makes a reappearance, jumping onto the island and whining, “When is my salad done? I’m hungry.”

Natasha doesn’t miss a beat, “If you decided to actually be useful, we might even be eating by now.”

Looking thoughtful for a hot second, Yelena mulls over the idea of actually being helpful. She shrugs, pouting, “But I wasn’t hungry then.”

“Then you’re hungry now.”

Yelena shakes her head petulantly, “I don’t like that.”

“Not my problem,” Natasha almost sings as she sets two plates beside Yelena, “Now come eat your delicious rabbit food.”

Yelena stares resignedly at her plate, stacked full of various greens, grains, and despair. Natasha has already started eating. Yelena picks up her fork, poking suspiciously at her dinner. Natasha snorts and Yelena glares at both her and the salad.

As if sensing a change in resolve, Natasha offers, “No complaints and you can pick the Netflix queue tonight.” She isn’t completely sure, but Natasha has a feeling that Yelena would just break quarantine if she can get her own dinner.

Yelena perks up immediately, “K-dramas?” 

Wondering what kind of fate she has subjected herself to, Natasha agrees warily, “I don’t know how you watch that kind of sap.”

“Well, you can wonder all night, tonight!” Yelena responds cheerfully, starting on her salad readily. “Besides, you have no horse to stand on with your disturbing slasher films.”

Natasha sniffs, “They’re funny. Unlike your weird wish-fulfillment tearfests.”

“Well,” Yelena continues eating, making faces as she does so, “You have all night to enjoy my gratuitous wish-fulfillment fantasies.”

“Right.”

They eat in a comfortable silence, Natasha watching Yelena eat with resolve as Yelena focuses on her food. Yelena eventually finishes triumphantly, rising and taking their plates to the sink. She begins to wash them, speaking with delighted glee, “Your night of fun starts now.”

“Great.”

“I know you’re secretly very excited.”

“I’m dying of joy inside,” Natasha replies dryly, “Go get ready, I guess. I’m going to shower first.”

“Don’t take too long,” Yelena remarks offhandedly, “We need all the time we can get if we’re going to get through the new series.”

Natasha resolves to draw out her shower as long as possible until the water begins turning cold, at which point she resigns herself to a life full of suffering and pain, and heads back out to the living room.

Unexpectedly, Natasha hears voices when she steps out of the shower, and the closer she gets towards the origin, the greater her suspicion. She walks apprehensively in the direction of Yelena’s cheerfully loud voice, but her secrecy is for naught when Yelena notices her.

“Natalia! That was fast. I expected you to shower for far longer than that.”

“The water got cold,” Natasha replied, eyes rapidly looking over the scene before her. Yelena is seated on the couch, the television opened to her Netflix queue, and Natasha’s computer in her lap.

Natasha’s computer is open.

Natasha’s open computer is in Yelena’s lap.

The computer that belongs to Natasha is open and in Yelena’s hands and the second voice is coming out from the computer.

“Hey Nat!” A brightly confused voice calls out from the computer, “Who’s your friend? I thought we were ‘social distancing’.”

Moving onto the couch, Natasha pulls her computer away from Yelena’s lap and into her own, angling it so that Yelena can’t see the screen, “Why are you calling, Clint?”

“Uh, well the kids were getting pretty bored alone, so I said we could try calling Aunt Natasha to see if she was interested in talking?” Clint offers sheepishly, “But I see you’re kind of occupied?” He waggles his eyebrows obnoxiously, “Nice quarantine you’ve got going there.”

Natasha sighs, “That’s...Yelena. It’s not-it’s not whatever you’re thinking.”

“So you didn’t pick up some random hot blonde and invite her to your place for ‘quarantine time’?”

“What? No, it’s not like that at all-”

“So she’s just a one time thing?” Clint looks, if anything, even more confused.

“No, Natalia’s friend who I have never met, she means it’s not like that because…” Pausing dramatically, Yelena, who has been blessedly silent over the course of the conversation, chooses to interject, poking her head towards the screen, “I am Natalia’s wife.”

Silence. Natasha regrets everything she’s ever done in her life that brought her to this moment.

“From Russia,” Yelena adds helpfully.

“What.” Clint appears completely baffled, and it is then that Cooper and Lila choose to make their appearance, small faces popping onto the screen.

“Auntie Tasha!” The children are delighted, and Cooper asks curiously, “Who’s that?” 

Eyeing the two of them warily, Clint responds slowly, “Her...wife?”

Natasha groans, “No, Yelena isn’t my-”

Yelena, of course, cuts her off, nodding sagely, “I am her wife. But since we come from Russia, that was not allowed, so Natalia came to America for us, and now that she is ready, I have come to join her.”

“No, no, no, that is not-”

This time, Clint is the one to cut her off, “Well, why didn’t you just say that? You know we wouldn’t judge, Nat. I’m guessing you were waiting for your citizenship before bringing her over?”

“Yes.” Yelena nods enthusiastically, “Exactly. Now, I have just come over, and we were going to celebrate our honeymoon, but, you know,” She shrugs, making a ‘what can you do?’ face, “We are now here. So…” Yelena trails off pointedly, and Clint seems to get the hint.

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine. I’ll, uh, leave you two to it, then. But I want all the details later!” He winks at them before ending the call.

Yelena closes the computer while Natasha sits, too stunned to react. She moves it off Natasha’s lap and onto the coffee table in front of them, curling into Natasha’s side while picking up the tv remote.

By the time Natasha has fully come to her senses, the intro scene to Yelena’s newest Korean obsession is already playing and Yelena is wrapped around her.

“What. Just. Happened?” She doesn’t sound mad, exactly, but frustration clearly seeps into Natasha’s voice.

“I’m your wife. Apparently.” Yelena answers casually, snuggling further into Natasha, “Do not worry. I am a very convincing wife.”

Natasha cannot even find it in herself to be particularly angry, especially considering the relatively light path Yelena had chosen. At least she hadn’t said they were _sisters_.

Yelena’s show is still playing, and Natasha focuses just long enough to see what is presumably the main character devolve into tears. She turns back to the cuddly blonde that is slowly sliding into her lap, “You know, I thought marriages were supposed to be a two-sided thing? Where both parties kind of, I don’t know, know they’re getting married?”

“Natalia,” Yelena’s voice contains trace amounts of condescension and quite a bit of disappointment, “What is a marriage?”

“A legally binding contract between two parties that establishes rights and obligations between them, as well as between them and any children or in-laws,” Natasha answers promptly, “None of which we have.”

“No, dummy,” This time, the condescension is quite a bit heavier, “Marriage is when two people who hopefully love each other dedicate themselves to the relationship between themselves. Which we have been doing for a very long time. We are basically married already anyways. I don’t need a piece of paper telling me what I’ve known for years.” Yelena shrugs, “Now, shut up. She is about to realize she loves her fake husband and doesn’t want a divorce.”

Natasha stares at Yelena disbelievingly. She knows that Yelena loves her, is fairly certain she loves Yelena in return, but to hear their relationship explained so casually, as if it were a simple fact, like the sky is blue, water is not wet, and Yelena and Natasha have a deeply loving relationship beyond performative demonstration; it is almost overwhelming in its enormity. They have never attempted to put into words what they have between them, but to know the way Yelena clearly feels about her, it makes Natasha think about what Yelena means to her. 

Looking down at the attentive stare Yelena has for the tv screen while she keeps herself firmly attached to Natasha, the way Yelena bites her lip while tightening her grip when the woman onscreen goes through her emotional revelation, Natasha has a revelation of her own. 

Yelena is her _world_. Everything she ever thought she needed or wanted, all of it paled in comparison to how she felt without Yelena. 

Pulling Yelena closer to her, Natasha settles in to watch an incredibly confused woman fall in love with her incredibly emotionally stunted husband. With her wife. Imagine that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA you fall in love with a woman _and_ her cat or nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. BLACK LIVES MATTER
> 
> 2\. I had a lot of fun writing in Yelena's point of view and I hope readers have as much fun reading in her point of view.

Yelena wakes early. Natasha’s curtains are doing their best, but the sun, although barely beyond the horizon, is already shining through. The room is lightly illuminated, casting a faint glow onto the bed. Allowing herself to bask momentarily in the quiet morning, Yelena turns her head slightly to see Natasha deep in the arms of Morpheus. Her face is calm, mouth slightly parted as she rests peacefully. 

Yelena hasn’t been in America long, hasn’t seen Natasha for what must have been an eternity before, and is completely unused to the carefree serenity that takes over then. It never used to be like that back home - no, Yelena corrects herself, because home has always been Natasha. Home goes wherever she goes. However, before they had been living in the shadows, disguising what they held dearest in a land that would not tolerate them. And then Natasha had left. It had broken Yelena, to wake up one day and know that a part of her was missing, would never come back. She had been bitter for a time, cursing Natasha for stealing her heart and taking it across the ocean like some careless theif.

Yet when Yelena turns her head and watches the absolute peace in Natasha’s face, she knows she would not have changed the past even if she could. For the fact that Natasha has been able to carve out a future for the both of them, and that Yelena can have her peace alongside her, it is enough. Every bit of pain, of resentment, of sadness - all of it is worth it to be waking up besides Natasha completely at peace.

Yelena’s revelations are cut short when Liho, the devil that she is, jumps onto the bed, walking up and onto Natasha before settling on her head. Then, the cat begins licking her paws. 

Natasha wakes with a grumble, patting at the cat on her face before gently lifting the blasted cat off her face and sitting up blearily.

The moment is ruined, Yelena thinks, especially when Natasha begins cooing at the devil in her arms, murmuring good mornings and other inane words only an incarnation of pure evil could understand. She glares at the cat smugly licking itself in Natasha’s arms. That is her spot, damnit.

As if sensing her thoughts, Natasha looks up at Yelena’s frown and grins, snuggling the furry monstrosity in her arms even more, “You can join us, you know.” She says, eyes sparkling and lips quirked. 

Yelena knows exactly what that kind of smile means, and she wants nothing to do with it. Not when that evil bastard is in her arms.

Natasha pouts, holding Liho up towards Yelena and wiggling her around in her arms, “Don’t be mean to Liho, Yelena. She just wants your love.”

Liho hisses.

“To steal yours, more like,” Yelena grumbles, crossing her arms and looking away. She refuses to be swayed by Natasha’s dastardly smirk, especially not with the evil blob being shoved in her face.

Her efforts are futile, mostly because Liho escapes Natasha’s grasp and scrambles off the bed only to bat at Yelena’s feet. Yelena sighs while Natasha stifles her laughter, “See, she wants to play with you.”

“She’s attacking me,” Liho swats at Yelena’s foot, gazing confusedly at it when her target doesn’t move, “Viciously.”

“Aw, come here baby,” Natasha reaches out for Yelena, who gladly moves into her arms with the absence of the cat. She snuggles into Natasha, leaching off of her warmth. The moment is perfect, Yelena thinks, surrounded by Natasha and happily ensconced in their bed. 

The calmness is broken when a meowing is heard from below them, Natasha disturbing Yelena to peer at the cat below the bed. Yelena startles unhappily, but is forced to concede defeat when Natasha moves to tend to the cat. Giving up her position, Yelena is forced to watch as Natasha follows the meowing monster to its bowl, left behind as always.

Yelena groans, turning and burying herself into the covers, silently refusing to leave until the evil has been dealt with. The blankets are a cocoon of warmth, a comfortable and safe den of softness. Yelena basks in the heat surrounding her, slipping into an easy and dreamless sleep.

The next thing Yelena registers is her perfect pile of blankets being ripped away and light blasting through her eyelids. She whines, turning to shove her face into the pillow and avoid the cruel illumination of the sun. 

“You should really get up,” Natasha says from some place above her, continuing as her voice moves around Yelena, “It’s almost one, and you’re going to ruin your sleep cycle.”

“Regular sleep schedules are for the weak,” Yelena mumbles, barely noticing as the bed dips to her right.

“Perhaps,” Natasha allows. 

She reaches out for Yelena, touching her shoulder gently. Yelena turns her head slightly in response, opening one eye to convey her displeasure with a glare of a thousand suns. Natasha smiles, that damned smirk resurfacing. Yelena’s glare intensifies, and the next thing she knows, she’s on her back, Natasha still smirking above her and she’s met with the full force of opened curtains on floor to ceiling windows in the middle of the day.

“Agh!” Yelena reaches for the nearest pillow to slam over her eyes, but her movements are stopped by Natasha, who slowly pushes the pillow back down while moving over her until she’s properly straddling Yelena. 

“Come on,” Natasha teases, “It’s the middle of the day and you want to go back to sleep?”

Suddenly, Yelena is far more awake. She blinks up at the goddess above her, “No.”

“Hm,” Natasha’s hands are suddenly resting on Yelena’s waist, thumbs playing at the hem of her shirt, “I didn’t think so.”

“Of course not,” Yelena agrees readily, her own hands moving up Natasha’s back as she slowly sits up to meet her in a kiss, “There are far better things for me to be doing in this bed.”

Natasha hums in agreement, the sound breaking off into a slight moan as their lips part. Yelena draws away slowly, her own smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. In response, Natasha wraps her arms around Yelena’s neck, surging forward for another kiss, slow and languid. There is no rush, no burning need or end-goal, simply a wandering path circling round and round in the warmth of their bed. It is nothing like their first nights together after years apart, instead a lazily drawn out moment wrapped around each other with nothing and no one to answer to.

As Natasha releases her, Yelena grins, only to be pushed gently back onto the bed so that Natasha can drape herself over Yelena, staring intently at her. Yelena meets Natasha’s eyes, emerald orbs blown wide and burning with intensity. 

Natasha holds the connection even as she lowers herself, more of her weight resting on Yelena. It’s a comfortable pressure that Yelena cherishes, lying comfortably in Natasha’s embrace. Yelena can feel the weight of Natasha’s hands pressing down into the mattress beside her head, feel the energy coiling and pressing out from Natasha, barely contained as their lips meet. The contact edges on the flame simmering low in her stomach, Yelena’s lips parting with a gasp. Without pause, Natasha’s tongue presses in, indolently fucking Yelena’s mouth as if she has nothing else to do.

Suddenly, the flames are roaring and filling Yelena with a frantic need that Natasha ignores, casually exploring Yelena’s mouth with far more restraint than Yelena herself feels. Her body in motion before Yelena thinks it through, she finds herself flipping Natasha over easily before setting in on the junction between her shoulder and neck. 

Too startled to react properly, Natasha speaks up while Yelena is determinedly sucking and biting the sudden expanse of pale skin at her disposal, “Impatient, much?” Her voice is breathy, with a lilt of amusement coloring her tone, “It’s the journey, not the destination, dorogaya.”

Not a moment, later, Yelena finds herself flat on her back, staring up at a smirking Natasha. She growls, pulling Natasha back down towards her, “The journey is taking too long and we have a deadline.” Her hips push up and her back arches as she tries to get on top once more.

Yelena’s attempt is unsuccessful as Natasha rolls her hips into the movement, pressing down and pinning Yelena with a condescending look, “Did you really think that would work?”

Yelena grins, baring her teeth, “No.” Once Natasha is properly distracted, Yelena moves once more, hips bucking and twisting with power as she succeeds in flipping them.

Her satisfaction is short-lived when Yelena finds herself and Natasha falling into an ungracefully tangled heap off the side of the bed, “Ouch.”

Beside her, Natasha glares.

Yelena is somehow still on the bottom.

“That was completely unnecessary,” Natasha mutters, “And now my body hurts too much to do anything.”

Yelena sighs.

Gently extricating herself, Natasha begins to leave the room, “When you feel like joining the land of the living, lunch is on the stove. I have a work call, so I’ll be in the studio until four or so unless something goes disastrously wrong. You going to work on anything today?”

“No,” Yelena mumbles petulantly, “I don’t feel like it.”

Without even seeing her, Yelena can feel Natasha’s shrug, “Suit yourself.” Her footsteps echo in Yelena’s ears, fading as Natasha gets farther and farther away until Yelena can only feel silence. 

Yelena flops onto her back, arms spread out as she stares morosely at the ceiling. Lockdown sucks, she decides while analyzing the infinite dots of white that create the ceiling. It is as she finishes tracing the line that bounds ceiling and wall that an idea strikes Yelena.

Moving off the floor, Yelena rushes out of the room and towards the studio. Just as she crosses through the living room, Yelena realizes that she is quite hungry and Natasha promised food. Turning towards the kitchen instead, Yelena heads to the stove and looks at the contents of the pot sitting atop it. 

“Ooh, not quinoa salad,” Yelena murmurs delightedly. Indeed, there is no quinoa salad in sight. Yelena quickly pulls out a plate and uncaps the pot, helping herself to a large portion of alfredo pasta. Taking a bite of her forkful, Yelena is prepared for creamy deliciousness to fill her mouth. Instead, she nearly spits out the contents of her mouth when she realizes whatever monstrosity Natasha has put together is decidedly not alfredo pasta. It is far, far worse. It is  _ vegan _ alfredo pasta.

“Dear god, I can even taste the tofu,” Yelena whispers in horror staring dolefully at the rest of her suddenly very filled plate. Mentally cursing western society and the concept of veganism, of all terrible ideas, it brought to Natasha, Yelena begins to finish her plate with excruciatingly miserable bites.

The instant the last bite of pasta disappears into her mouth, Yelena takes her plate to the sink and blissfully washes every last remnant of vegan alfredo sauce away. Once that atrocity is finally taken care of, Yelena makes her way to the studio. She has art to make.

Yelena’s journey towards making the best piece of art ever is halted when she comes upon the closed door to the studio. Dimly, she recalls that Natasha mentioned she had a work call. Yelena shrugs. She’ll just be quiet, she decides. It’s not as if creating a masterpiece is going to be a loud process. Yelena pushes open the door to the studio, perfectly ready to face Natasha’s possible annoyance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-consistent characterization based off a 2 minute trailer and various comic bits? It's more likely than you think. Yelena's character sheet is basically just a long column of "little shit". Also Clint is doing his best, and Natasha is just suffering.

The moment the door opens, Natasha’s attention flips away from her computer to Yelena’s entering form like a switch, “I’m working, Yelena.”

“Well, so am I,” Yelena replies archly, moving towards her side of the studio while she gathers her materials, “I don’t see why we can’t work together. Separately.”

Natasha shakes her head, looking back at her computer. On her screen, Tony and Clint look gleefully confused while Steve and Bruce look simply confused. Tony also appears to be shouting into his microphone, to no avail because Natasha has all of them on mute. She mutes herself as well before turning back to Yelena, “You’re really just going to work?”

Yelena nods, already mixing her paints as she stares intently at a large, blank canvas, “I am just going to work. You can keep talking to your friends, I do not mind.”

Shaking her head, Natasha laughs, “They’re my colleagues. I talk to them out of necessity.” On her screen, Tony clutches his hearts as if mortally wounded while Clint is making various offended faces, Bruce shakes his head sadly and Steve appears hurt.

“Whatever you say, Natalia,” Yelena waves around a paintbrush, biting her lip as she inspects her canvas, “There is no shame in liking people, you know. It is how you got me.”

Natasha snorts. The boys are still reacting in a myriad of outlandish but fairly entertaining ways. Contemplating the various advantages and disadvantages of unmuting her computer, Natasha’s mind is made for her when Yelena looks back at her, “You should really get back to work, Natalia. It is not fair to slack off while other parties work on providing for this family.”

Groaning, Natasha drops her head onto the table, “You don’t even pay rent!”

“I mean,” Yelena shrugs while studiously mixing more paint onto her palette, “I just got here, what did you expect? But if you cannot support this household, there is no shame in asking for help. We are wives, after all. We should share the burden.”

Natasha doesn’t bother looking at her screen, knowing more or less exactly how her coworkers will appear. She can already imagine Tony’s surprised Pikachu face before he bursts into some mildly offensive sputtering. It does not make the situation any better, though. “Considering how I’ve gotten by so far, I think I’m good,” She replies dryly, “But thanks.”

Yelena smiles winningly back at her, “The offer is always open,” She sing-songs back, “You know I’d never leave you out to hang.”

Natasha forces out a smile in return before glancing back at her screen. On a side thought, she unmutes herself, as well as the rest of the call.

Immediately, sound erupts from her computer, “Romanoff! You never mentioned a wife! Explains why you always said no, though!”, accompanied by, “Nat! You said you’d explain!”, as well as “Uh are we interrupting you and your, uh, wife?” Steve still appears completely befuddled, mouth open and gaping like a fish.

Natasha finds that she has been sighing a lot recently. She really hopes she doesn’t make a habit out of it, but her hopes have been verging on pipe dreams lately. Mostly due to Yelena.

“Yelena and I-” Natasha cuts herself off, stopping to correct herself, “Yelena and I are not legally married-”

This time, it is Yelena that cuts her off, “Yet.”

Natasha pauses, throwing a meaningful look at Yelena before continuing, “Not legally married yet, but we consider ourselves to be something akin to that.”

“She is my wife.” Yelena announces, still entirely concentrated on her work. Her palette is slightly angled towards Natasha and it appears that she is using some style of pointillism to viciously paint varying shades of light gray and white onto an already white canvas. Natasha will have to ask about that later.

“But not legally,” Tony points out, brows arched purposefully at them, “The two of you are not legally married.”

“She just got here,” Natasha snaps, “Yelena flew in from Russia three days ago and if you didn’t notice, there’s been a pandemic going around. Besides, the legal status of our relationship has no bearing on what we mean to each other and it never will. The subject is closed, Stark. Bring it up one more time and you’ll regret it.”

Natasha doesn’t have to look at Yelena to know that heart eyes are being directed her way.

“Does that mean there’s going to be a wedding?” Clint asks delightedly, “Nat, I am totally throwing the best bachelorette party. I’m sure Stark will pay for it, right?” He stares pointedly at his camera.

“I thought I said the subject was closed.” 

Clint shrugs, “The legal status of your wife is closed, but you never said anything about a wedding. Besides, I’m sure Yelena would love a wedding, right?”

Natasha turns to look at Yelena, who is not so subtly eavesdropping on the entire conversation. Once caught, Yelena does not even try to appear contrite, instead nodding eagerly, “I deserve the best wedding.”

With mounting horror, Natasha realizes that a wedding is exactly something someone like Yelena would want. Especially now that there is nothing stopping her beyond a worldwide pandemic.

“We can talk about that later,” She says, hoping beyond measure that Yelena will forget about it for the duration of their lockdown or Natasha will never hear the end of it.

It’s not that she is against the whole performative act of marriage, but Natasha has no desire to live with a cooped-up Yelena contemplating actual marriage. Dear God, she might make them go to church or something equally reprehensible.

“Okay.” Yelena agrees easily, causing Natasha’s stress levels to skyrocket because Yelena never just lets things go.

Natasha pauses, wondering if she really wants to ask, but she can’t help herself, “Really?”

“Yes,” Yelena replies simply, “I mean, I still want a ring though. Those are pretty.”

Natasha laughs, shaking her head, “Of course you do.”

Yelena beams back at her and Natasha smiles before turning back to her screen. Tony seems to be frozen while Clint has both hands pressed to his chin, a faux-shocked expression etched onto his face. Steve and Bruce appear normal, if slightly confused, and Natasha thanks the world for small mercies.

“What.” Natasha stares intently at her screen, mentally daring anyone to mention her uncharacteristic smiling, or the air of contentment rolling off of her.

“You just look happy,” Bruce responds, “Really happy.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, “Oh?”

“Yeah,” Clint adds, “Like really really happy. I think we’re all just happy for you that you’re, well, happy.”

“Thanks,” Natasha answers dryly, “That’s great. If that’s all, then I assume we’re done, then?” She trails off meaningfully, and the others take the message, saying their goodbyes and logging off. All except Clint, who is still infuriatingly present and smirking.

“I told you I wanted details,” He shakes his head in mock disappointment, “And you still haven’t given me any. I thought we were best friends, Nat.”

Natasha responds instantly, “Yelena is my best friend. You are an...annoyance who somehow has a fantastic wife and amazing children.”

“But you love me anyways,” Clint singsongs in reply, “Also, offended. I am the best bro. I can’t believe you’d reduce me to such basic qualities. I also have an awesome dog.”

Yelena cuts in immediately, “Natalia does not like dogs. That is why she has a devil cat, to ward off all the good animals in the world.”

Clint stares at his screen in wonder, face going through a spectacular journey of expressions before settling on delight, “Natasha! Why have I never met your wife before? She’s like my spirit animal!”

“She lived in a dictatorship that controls its people and heavily punishes political dissidents and members of the LGBT community,” Natasha deadpans, “Also I didn’t want you to.”

“Natasha is selfish like that,” Yelena pipes in helpfully.

“Sure.”

“Whatever,” Clint allows, “But I still want to know all the deets, Natasha. You’ve been holding out on me!”

Natasha knows she is not winning this fight. Clint is like a bloodhound when it comes to gossip, “First off never say deets ever again. You get three questions and then you never bother me about this again.”

Clint appears ecstatic, “I’ll take it! Okay, why does your wife call you ‘Natalia’ all the time?”

“Oh, that one is easy,” Yelena remarks casually, “You should have picked a harder question. I call her Natalia because that is her name.”

“What.”

Natasha mentally face-palms, “I anglicized my name when I came to America. Fresh start and all that. Two left, and Yelena was right. You really should’ve picked a better question.”

Clint pouts, “Okay, fine. How did you two meet?”

“Ooh, I know this one!” Yelena interjects excitedly, even looking up from her canvas, “Art camp!”

Clint looks thoroughly confused and Natasha snorts, explaining, “A couple years before I left for America, the Russian government had this big push for the arts to create a more ‘culturally superior nation’ or whatever bullshit they were trying to spread, so they roped a bunch of artists into so-called ‘art centers’ where they had us do a bunch of art. Propaganda, basically, and probably a way to keep an eye on potential dissidents in the art scene.”

Yelena waves her hand, paintbrush thankfully set down over the course of the conversation, “It was terrible but at least I met Natalia there.”

“I’m not sure what the government expected to happen, but they did put us in contact with a lot of like-minded people that we probably wouldn’t have met otherwise,” Natasha agrees, shrugging noncommittally, “Thankfully that’s over though.”

Clint looks like a vague mix of shocked and horrified, “That is so awful, I can’t even imagine. I’m glad you’re all okay now. God, Natasha, I had no idea.”

“It wasn’t great,” Natasha admits, “But it could’ve been worse, and Yelena and I got out. That’s the most important thing right now.”

“Yeah.”

“Enough with the sad thoughts,” Yelena cuts in, “Ask your last question, Clinton!”

Clint immediately squawks, flailing ungracefully in his chair, “Don’t call me that! I sound like an old man!”

Natasha can only see Yelena’s side profile due to the orientation of the room, but she sees her make a face, nose scrunched adorably, and she lets out a giggle. A dignified giggle, but Clint squawks again. Maybe he’s trying out to be a bird. The man’s done stranger things.

“You’re laughing! You don’t laugh!”

“It’s because you’re not funny enough to waste laughing on,” Natasha retorts easily, “I have far better things to laugh about.”

Clint sulks, protesting her remarks without pause, “Now you’re just being mean. I have it on good authority that I’m hilarious.”

“Your wife and children who don’t know any better don’t count. Trust me, your sense of humor is not why Laura married you,” Natasha shoots back.

“Oof. You wound me,” Clint mockingly puts his hands to his chest in agony before shrugging casually, “Alas you are correct. Laura married me for my sparkling personality.”

Natasha snorts. She honestly has no idea why Laura married Clint, but he isn’t really that terrible of a choice. He is a good husband, a good father, and a good person. Plus, he is occasionally funny. But she is never telling him that.

“Ask your question already, Clinton,” Yelena calls out lazily. She has returned to her painting, but Natasha can tell that she is still paying attention to their conversation.

Quite frankly, Natasha is impressed that Yelena still is still invested in what her and Clint are talking about, but then again, they are partially talking about her. Yelena loves attention when she is purposefully seeking it. Like a cat.

Clint grumbles in response before answering, “Alright, fine,” He mulls over his question before visibly perking up, “Ooh, have you ever drawn her like one of your French girls?”

“Paint,” Natasha unconsciously corrects before realizing what she said. Natasha doesn’t blush, but Clint will swear up and down that he saw twin spots of red appear on her cheeks.

“Ha!” He crows triumphantly, “I knew you were into some kinky shit!”

Yelena snorts from her side of the studio, and Clint’s eyes light up even wider. “Please. That is like foreplay. You should ask her about the ‘home improvements’ she did to her bedframe before I came to America.”

Clint makes as if to say something, but Natasha is faster, “Alright, you’ve had your three questions. Time’s up, goodbye, we’re not talking about this again.” 

She snaps her computer shut and stares pointedly at Yelena, “Really? You had to tell him that?”

Putting on her most innocent face, Yelena continues to work on her canvas, “I am also curious about those improvements. I have as of yet not received any information about the purpose of those changes. Quite expensive changes, too,” She looks impishly over her shoulder at Natasha, “I really am quite curious, Natalia. Maybe you should...clear my mind.”

Natasha shakes her head resignedly, but she is already up out of her chair and heading towards Yelena’s work. The canvas is about a quarter of the way painted, except there only appears to be different lightly shaded grayscale dots. Natasha knows modern art can be, well, complicated, but she does not understand a thing Yelena is doing.

Yelena barely reacts to Natasha’s presence over her shoulder, still concentrating on her work. It isn’t until Natasha speaks that she acknowledges her presence.

“What are you working on?”

It takes a second for Yelena to process the question, but she replies easily after that, “It is a depiction of your ceiling. I think I am going to call it The White Ceiling.”

It takes Natasha more than a second to process the response, and even longer to formulate an answer. Eventually she manages, “How fascinating.”

Yelena hums, “It does not really matter what I call it, or how I choose to describe it. The art world will interpret it however they choose and call it a decisively compelling commentary on society or some other bullshit and give me forkfuls of money for it.”

Sometimes Natasha wonders if all their work is being consumed by pretentious fools more willing to create meaning out of art because they have nothing left to fill the voids in their souls. Or they are just serving the whims of a bunch of rich idiots. 

Natasha looks back at Yelena and realizes she doesn’t really care. Art is an expression of themselves and it also happens to pay their bills. Natasha cannot really ask for more. Art also brought Yelena to her, and Natasha is grateful every day she gets to spend with her.

Brought out of her thoughts by Yelena, who has since put down her brush and palette before turning to her, Natasha smiles down at Yelena. Grasping Natasha’s wrist, Yelena brings with around her neck and pulls her closer.

Allowing herself to be moved, Natasha finds herself settling precariously on Yelena’s lap, balancing carefully on their shared stool. She winds her arms around Yelena’s neck and leans in until her mouth is ghosting Yelena’s ear, “We’re not doing a thing on this stool because I already fell off the bed today.”

Yelena pushes Natasha away, a far more devastating pout than anything Clint has to offer appearing and directed entirely at Natasha, “Fine. But I expect an explanation in the bed.”

Sliding easily off Yelena’s lap, Natasha offers out her hand. Once Yelena takes it, Natasha pulls her close, “Don’t worry, I’m sure I can be…more than comprehensive.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yelena is in pain but Natasha is a good wife and they are happy.

Once again, Yelena wakes before Natasha. This time, however, she cannot bask in the warmth of her blanket cocoon and Natasha wrapped around her because Yelena’s entire body is in pain. Her back aches like she’s an old woman who just deadlifted a sack of bricks, her muscles feel a bizarre combination of numb and incredibly sore, and her stomach is cramping like it’s trying to yeet her uterus out of her vagina. Which it is. Letting out an alarmingly pitiful whimper, Yelena curls into herself as tightly as possible while pulling the mass of blankets closer to her.

Yelena’s efforts must dislodge Natasha because not a moment later, Natasha is grumbling in a sleepy half-aware state while fumbling around for Yelena’s blankets.

 _It is just like Natalia_ , Yelena thinks grumpily to herself, _always hogging things for herself even when others are clearly in excruciating pain and need it far more._ Yelena’s grip tightens on her blankets and she refuses to budge, even when Natasha begins to tug.

“Let go, rooskaya,” Natasha mumbles, “You cannot hog all of the blankets.”

Yelena refuses to be moved, “No. They are mine. I deserve them because I am in pain and you are making the situation worse, thinking only about yourself.”

A pregnant pause follows Yelena’s declaration, Natasha ceasing her efforts while her brain catches up with Yelena’s words. Suddenly Yelena feels herself wrapped up around her blankets, Natasha’s head digging into the covers near Yelena’s shoulder. To the best of her ability, Natasha cuddles into Yelena, as if her embrace can soothe the pain from a decade of loneliness. 

Yelena is not willing to concede total defeat, but she must admit that Natasha Cuddles™ do an excellent job of closing the gap. Unfortunately, Natasha Cuddles™ are unable to chase away her body’s monthly insistence on suffering. It seems no amount of warm and fuzzy feelings can compete with the female menstrual cycle, to Yelena’s great despair.

To that effect, Yelena buries herself into Natasha, as if she is trying to fuse her and Natasha into one being. She mulls the thought over and finds that she is not in the least opposed to the idea because at least it means Natasha cannot leave her without severe bodily injury.

The semi-idyllic morning is ruined when she hears meowing at the edge of the bed, Liho making her hunger clearly known. Yelena clings harder to Natasha, but her efforts are for naught as Natasha begins to remove herself from the bed, gently prying Yelena’s grip away from her.

Although she is a prideful creature, Yelena is not above guilting Natasha into ignoring her cat and instead giving Yelena all her attention. “Stop leaving, Natalia. You always leave.” She also attempts to appear as pitiful as possible in the hopes that it will sway Natasha.

Despite her efforts, Natasha continues infuriatingly to leave and coo after Liho, “Don’t worry Yelena, I’ll be back. Just gotta feed this little monster over here, right?” She continues making stupid faces at Liho. Yelena is too wrapped up in her blankets to see, but she knows that is what Natasha is doing like the traitor she is.

“Why do you always have to leave?” Yelena sulks, rolling in her pile of blankets away from the door petulantly, “I have never left you and look how you repay me.”

Natasha refuses to be provoked, “Abandonment issues aside, I’m choosing to understand that this is your physical pain talking.”

It is far too early for reasonable behavior, so Yelena chooses not to interact any further with Natasha. Instead she tries to avoid thinking about anything until Natasha comes back.

Time passes in a blur. Yelena could swear that it has been eons since Natasha left, but the reality is probably closer to ten minutes before the bed dips and Natasha settles in beside Yelena. Natasha attempts to nudge her into action, but Yelena refuses to budge. Natasha is going to need to offer something better than soothing words and nudges if she wants Yelena to be anything more than an unresponsive lump.

“Yelena, if you don’t get up now, you’re going to spend half the day in bed. Again. Is that really how you want to spend your life?”

“Does it matter?” Yelena doesn’t bother turning over to meet Natasha’s eyes, but she does make an attempt to peek her head out a bit. Just a tiny bit, though. There is no need to seem overeager when one is as miserable as Yelena finds herself.

Natasha sighs. Loudly. “Yes, actually, it does matter because wasting away during quarantine is not an effective way to spend your life and also I’d like to spend the half of the day that you’re planning on doing nothing with you.”

At this, Yelena turns to face Natasha, blinking rapidly, “You can do nothing with me, Natalia. No one is stopping you from doing that.”

Rolling her eyes, Natasha shakes her head fondly before dropping her upper body into the bed and wrapping her arms around Yelena. “As appealing as that may seem, I was thinking instead of doing something together- and no, Yelena,” Natasha cuts Yelena off before she is even able to open her mouth, “Doing nothing is not an activity.”

“Yes, it is,” Yelena whines, “Yes it is.”

“Well, then I veto it.”

“That’s so..." Yelena struggles to finish her sentence with an appropriate adjective before eventually settling, “Mean. Very insensitive to my pain, Natalia.”

Rather than respond to Yelena’s remarks, Natasha instead wiggles her hands into Yelena’s blankets and begins to forcibly extricate Yelena from her cocoon. Despite Yelena’s feeble protests, Natasha shows no mercy until she tosses the covers off the bed before turning back to a glaring Yelena.

“I was using those.”

“You don’t need them anymore though,” Natasha answers, “Because we’re not spending any more time in this bed.”

In response, the corners of Yelena’s lips begin to tremble, and she widens her eyes as pitifully as possible before meeting Natasha’s gaze. Unfortunately, Natasha appears to have anticipated Yelena’s moves because there is a steely glint in her eyes as she stares back at Yelena. Her eyes are dead and devoid of feeling. Like a republican.

With a huff, Yelena throws her hands up in the air and pouts as devastatingly as possible at Natasha. She notches up her puppy eyes and even attempts to tear up a bit.

It has absolutely no effect.

Like a wise woman with far too much experience, Natasha offers helpfully, “The more you use a sword, the duller the blade.”

“Shut up, Yoda,” Yelena’s pout is ruined when she sticks her tongue out at Natasha, “I did not ask and also I do not want your advice.”

“Aw, poor baby,” Natasha leans over so that her arm can wrap around Yelena’s waist and her head rests on Yelena’s shoulders, “You live a hard life filled with pain and suffering.”

Turning to bury her head into Natasha’s hair, Yelena agrees wholeheartedly, “I do.”

The force of Natasha’s laugh rocks through Yelena. In turn, Yelena decides to nose Natasha’s head out of the way and bite into her shoulder. 

Her actions are not well-received, and Natasha jumps away from Yelena with a start. She fixes her gaze impassively on Yelena’s, “Why did you do that.”

It isn’t a question, and Yelena sighs. Even being an asshole does not elicit any particularly interesting response. Which she would really appreciate because then she wouldn’t feel so bad about being a jerk to Natasha. “Because I felt like it.”

Even worse, Natasha’s face falls, as if she is the one to do something wrong. Now Yelena feels like an actual asshole because regardless of all her faults, Natasha has only ever tried to support Yelena, even if her actions were completely misguided and terrible. 

“Fine!” Yelena announces, forcing her body to move and hopping off the bed with a flourish. At least, she attempts to flourish. She would still really like to curl up into a ball and dream the pain away, but Natasha is a relentless do-gooder with no mercy.

“Excellent.” Natasha claps her hands slowly, mockingly pointed at Yelena.

It feels as if Natasha is being sarcastic and not supportive enough, which makes Yelena scowl before turning away with a huff. She doesn’t need Natasha’s pity, even if it would be nice for her pain to be acknowledged every once in a while. “Whatever. What are your grand plans then, oh majestic wife of mine?” Yelena specifically ignores the tingly sparks she gets from calling Natasha her wife. Natasha doesn’t deserve to make Yelena feel tingly when Yelena is mad at her.

“Well..." Trailing off slowly, Natasha rises and walks behind Yelena, arms wrapping around Yelena like a coil and head dropping to her shoulder, “Seeing as how you seem to be in absolutely excruciating pain, I thought we could bake some sugary monstrosity for you to feel a little less terrible.”

Now Yelena feels a lot more terrible, all because of Natasha’s ridiculous habit of being considerate and thoughtful. “Oh.”

“I mean, if you’re not all that into it, we can just make some kale cookies?”

“No! No! No, no, no, no I want sugar monstrosities,” Yelena assures Natasha frantically, “Do not dare make me eat something healthy in my time of suffering.” She can feel Natasha smirking against her shoulder, but such treachery can be forgiven in the face of fucking kale cookies. Yelena’s never had them before, but even the thought of something as beautiful as cookies combined with something as horrifying as kale is absolutely petrifying.

“I’m glad.” Suddenly the weight of Natasha around Yelena disappears, and Yelena is standing alone in their bedroom.

With a sigh Yelena follows in Natasha’s footsteps and makes her way towards the kitchen. Various baking implements and ingredients are already on the island by the time Yelena arrives, none of which are very familiar to her. Yelena isn’t entirely ashamed to admit it, but it’s not a great feeling to realize that she is kind of very incompetent when it comes to baking. Or cooking. Or very many adult survival skills. Quite frankly, she’s surprised that she even made it out alive during those years without Natasha.

After examining a strangely rubbery sheet for a brief while, Yelena speaks up, “You know, I actually feel quite well, now. I do not really think we need cookies for-”

Yelena is cut off by Natasha, who throws a bar of chocolate that hits Yelena’s head before falling into her hands. Yelena glances at the bar sitting in her hands before looking at Natasha from the other end of the island. Natasha looks less than impressed with Yelena’s indecision. “You’re miserable and you love sugar. We’re making cookies.”

“Okay, but-”

“It’s not that hard, Yelena. Besides, we’re a team. Nothing gets the better of us.” As she speaks, Natasha makes her way around the island until she can wrap Yelena in a brief hug before pulling away, “I promise.

“Promise?”

“Yes dorogaya, I promise.” Natasha is shaking her head, but her smile visibly brightens as she speaks, “I’m not leaving you to fend for yourself in the big, brave world of baking. Or any other world if I have a say in it.”

“I am holding you to that.” Yelena starts to tear up and she blames her hormones. That and Natasha’s stupid, inconsiderate consideration. 

“I can’t wait. However,” Natasha pauses and pulls out a glass bowl from somewhere, “Now we have to bake.”

“Can you just let us enjoy this moment for a while?”

“Not if you want to speed up your path to diabetes we can’t!”

Opening her mouth, Yelena stops herself before she speaks, but continues at Natasha’s raised eyebrow. Although her impression of a gaping fish is excellent, Yelena doesn’t think it fits the situation. “Will you still love me when I am old and diabetic?

“I will always love you, old and diabetic or no,” Natasha answers without pause, “You know that.”

This time, Yelena isn’t able to stop the tears from forming, but she doesn’t even care anymore. Holding back her emotions takes a lot of energy, especially when the emotions stem from her and Natasha being in love. “I do.”

Natasha nods solemnly before holding up two bags of what look to be chocolate, “Now, that just leaves the most important question. Double chocolate or triple?”

In response, Yelena’s eyes blow out entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yelena's thoughts about kale are NOT my thoughts kale is delicious but I've never had a kale cookie before so I can't pass judgement on that. Also these two are _in love_ and they will always be in love I chant to myself the closer Disney comes to releasing that damn movie. Side note, my other fic *shameless plug* is in fact attempting to plot out Black Widow before Disney and I will not take any deviations by the mouse as canon.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this crackfic would not leave my head until I started writing it and I didn't have time to focus on cherish my burdens at all, but I have...whatever this is. I did enjoy writing it, though, because little shit Yelena gives me life. I may or may not also write a quarantine fic where they actually fall in love with each other, but I'm not sure if I have enough for it. I may also just update with married Yelenat quarantine shenanigans.
> 
> Also kudos to whoever knows what kdrama Yelena's watching. I don't share Natasha's hate of them, although some are pretty...contrived, but I also enjoy a lot of them.
> 
> If anyone wants to chat about my latest hyperfixations, I'm on tumblr at: [@ehemond](https://ehemond.tumblr.com/).


End file.
